Nebulous 2
by sterek7
Summary: Gary develops a fascination with Peter.
1. Chapter 1

It's always started like this.

A tense moment of silence between the two of us, all to familiar with the unease our room holds. I can't look at him, not when I can feel the hatred in that gaze. He's circling me like a predator around it's next meal. It's too much all at once and I swallow a whimper.

 _I shouldn't have said anything._

Wringing my hands together, I chance a dart of eyes towards the door, calculating my chances of making it there before him. Of course he could overpower me, tear me apart if he wanted, but maybe I'd be quicker. Maybe I could scream for help. But who would come? It's a Friday night, everyone's either gone home for the weekend or left to find some form of entertainment in town.

 _Besides, wouldn't that just make him angrier?_

The creaking of his teeth as he grinds them together pulls me from my thoughts, violently snapping me back to the present rather than the possibilities. Regardless of who's faster, who's stronger, his labored breathing locks my knees and keeps me in place.

 _I can't believe I slipped up, got too comfortable..._

He stops before me, his presence demanding my attention. I close my eyes and count my breaths, trying in vain to calm myself.

One.

Two.

Three.

I move my head slowly, meeting his heated stare. "You really know how to make a guy feel special, don't you Petey?" He says this so slowly, drawing out each word like he's got all day. And he might. Your every day concepts like "attending school" don't really apply to him. Gary makes his own set of rules.

"I'm sorry." I know our parts well, the privacy of our dorm the stage. It isn't the first or the last time and though my words feel stale in my mouth, the terror in my heart remains fresh. "I-…. I didn't mean it."

"And do you think I'll mean it when I break your fingers?" He chuckles darkly and any hope is replaced by the realization that there is nothing more I can say to stop him. There goes the normal script, ripped to pieces at our feet. Gary isn't supposed to look like he's actually considering his words. I usually manage to get off with a black eye or busted lip, but this is beginning to look much more grim. Small, unsure sounds escape my lips. I blink away tears.

 _Oh, God... This is it._

He's wearing a mockery of a smile. It's so far from real, twisted at the edges and dripping with the aching desire to harm, to tear, to kill.

All of this in what's supposed to be my home. I'm meant to be safe here, but I only see these four walls when I can't hold out on sleep any longer, and even then it's with one eye open for fear of what lay in wait across the room. When Doctor Crabblesnitch told me it would feel like home in no time, he lied.

" _I can't fucking hear you, Peter."_ Too quickly to be true he is at my side, looming over my head. I can feel the heat from his body seeping through my dress shirt and I'm certain that I will burn.

I sputter a reply. "Y-yes."

"Do you want to call me crazy again, Peter?" He's moved behind me now, his breath like fire in my ear.

"No."

"Give me your hands."

I almost, _almost,_ let another refusal slip past my lips before rationalizing that a few broken fingers are better than no pulse. I lift my hands from their place at my sides and suddenly they are stone, heavier than I can bear, and the world is in stop motion. I leave them hanging uselessly in the air, shutting my eyes tightly. I don't want to watch this. "Please," I breathe, faint to even my own ears. "get it over with."

I can hear him shifting and the sound nearly makes me cry out. "Good boys get to make requests, Petey. Do you know what bad boys get?" He prompts. "Do you?"

"Nothing."

"That's exactly right. You get nothing."

To my dread, I receive it in abundance. I can't tell how much time has passed with no physical pain to give me a sense of time. How can I count the seconds in heavy blows if none come my way?

Instead, I feel the barest of touches against my face.

It feels too delicate to be real, and I have to stop myself from lingering in the reprieve, reopening my eyes to the sight of a nightmare. He's standing so close to me now and if he comes any closer then my hands will be caught between our chests

His fingers leave my cheek. "You think I'm crazy? That I should be institutionalized, just like my Mom?"

I hold back a whimper.

"You're right." And for no more than a few seconds, the heat dims in those dark, dark eyes. Later on, I'll be able to convince myself that I saw pain there.

 _"_ Gar-" A sharp punch hits me square in the ribs, another to the stomach and my words fall helplessly to the hardwood floor, followed shortly by my body.

"Stay down there and think about what you've done wrong, Peter."

I wheeze as he prods me with his boot, pushing me onto my back. I can feel his glare rolling over my convulsing torso. Collar fully buttoned, khakis a little too long, and yet I feel utterly exposed under the scrutiny of the older boy.

My head lolls to the side, but his shoe nudges my cheek to face him once more. "I want you to listen closely. _Really listen_." Gary crouches by my limp form and snaps his fingers in my face until my gaze reconnects with his own. "Hello? Earth to Petey?"

His fingers reach toward my neck to continue their path along my skin. "There we go. You listening? Good boy."

Suddenly his grip tightens around my windpipe, his face within an inch of my own. I can't think, his breath intermingled with mine, every freckle and scar stealing my view. There is a silence, and I cannot fathom the depth of those nebulous eyes.

" _Disrespect me like that again and I will beat you within an inch of your life_."

I let out a wheeze as the rickety door slams behind him. He is gone, leaving me on the cold floor, aching, exhausted, lost.


	2. Chapter 2

For the first time in a very long time, I am completely unable to focus in class. Rather than taking notes, I've been fidgeting uncomfortably in my wobbly desk for the past half hour, somehow drowning out the shrill squeak of chalk against the bored.

I can't help it, but every time Mr. Galloway opens his mouth to talk about Beowulf _,_ my mind drifts back to the "incident", as I have taken to calling it. My sides still ache in protest to each movement, serving as a constant reminder that I'm not safe anymore.

I drag fingers through my hair, uncrossing and re-crossing my legs for what must be the fifth time. Beatrice is sitting across from me, shooting annoyed looks in my direction. I give her an apologetic smile and try to still the ball of nervous energy I've become.

Since that night Gary's made himself sparse. I've been wracking my brain for what wicked schemes he could be off formulating... but I've got nothing. He was only in the room for a handful of minutes over the weekend. Though my heart almost stopped dead when he came waltzing in, he simply grabbed a few things off of his unkempt bed and left. No talking. No acknowledgment. No "Hey, sorry for beating you up Friday. It was a total dick move and I'll never do it again". No nothing.

And strangely enough, everyone else seems to be ignoring me too. In fact, things have been so quiet that I am close to admitting that I may or may not be terrified. Just a little.

It's not like I miss being constantly berated by every other clique on campus, But right now there's just... nothing. It's beginning to feel unnerving. Beatrice has to be the first person to look me in the eye all morning.

 _I swear, it's like I'm physically repelling the rest of the student body._

Regardless of what Gary's been up to, within the space of a weekend Peter Kawalski has simply stopped existing.

It must be some part of his grand plan, to lull me into a sense of false security. Wait until the water is calm to strike. I wish he would just get it over with already. Without him tormenting me, It's starting to get a little lonely.

"Mr. Kowalski?"

I snap my focus back to the board, and to Mr. Galloway's haggard, and ever-so-slightly annoyed, face. "I asked you a question. Were you not listening?"

I'm turning an embarrassing shade of red while I struggle to answer him. He closes the distance of the classroom to loom over my desk, looking disappointed. I smell the whiskey on his breath as he asks, "Can you tell the class what Hrothgar's mead-hall was called?"

 _...Fucking Beowulf._

I wrack my brain for an answer I simply don't know.

My attention's drawn just to the left of Mr. Galloway, where Algie is flailing wildly for my attention, mouthing the answer in the most over exaggerated way possible.

"H-… Heorot, Sir?" I offer.

He squints for a moment, considering not letting me off so easy. Luckily for me, he's just on the right side of tipsy this morning.

My locker did nothing to deserve the violent way in which I was shoving my books into it, but I was frustrated, a little scared, and the scratched up metal is an easy target.

I can't believe I'm letting Gary get to me this easily. Was this his plan? Turn me into a nervous wreck before noon?

 _It might work._

"Wow, Pete. Uh, you need to blow of some steam or something?"

The ginger boy is leaning against the wall, looking ridiculously cool. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see Jimmy, but here he is in all his stocky glory.

 _Finally, someone noticing my existence that doesn't want to yell at me._

 _"_ Hey Jimmy. Yeah," I close my locker in a more apologetic way. "Sorry. It's been a rough day."

He gives a neutral shrug, and nods in the general direction of the cafeteria. "Feel like getting some food? I hear it's even edible today."

It's the first time I've managed a genuine smile today. "Sure thing."

I don't think I always realize how grateful I am for Jimmy's friendship. It's one of those constants that, in the months that he's been at Bullworth, became as normal as "normal" can get here. There's no pressure. Whether we've talked the day before or weeks have passed, it's always just as easy between us.

Taking our seats in the far corner of the cafeteria, I feel at ease. Half an hour ago I thought I'd be ripping my hair out by now.

Jimmy's going on about his latest antics in town in lieu of actually eating the slop on his tray. I nod him on here and there to let him know that I'm still listening, but for the most part I keep quiet, content to let him direct the conversation.

"And he's got the nerve to tell me that _I'm_ trespassing!Can you believe that shit?" Jimmy asked incredulously, chuckling along with me. "I mean, the nerve of some people."

"Trashing his car might have been a bit heavy handed." I laugh, picking through my food for the so called "edible" parts.

He looks up at me, smiling. "Yeah, well hindsight is 20-20."

Silence falls over us for a few minutes while we eat. I try to focus on this moment, on how good it feels to not be walking on eggshells for once.

I can tell he wants to ask about the bruises on my knuckles from the week before, or the scar on my lip from the one before that. But he won't.

This is how it goes with us. The unspoken compromise we've settled on. He'll never hear me say what Gary does to me, but he knows.

Jimmy doesn't push for answers. Instead he waits for the moments when Gary leaves me broken, and helps me put the pieces back together again.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I'm leaving the details of the relationship between Pete and Jimmy ambiguous. It's not important to the plot if they're platonic or have had relations in the past, so feel free to interpret it as you will. Just generally, Pete's mental stability has been very dependent on the kindness Jimmy's shown him.


End file.
